When Danny saw Mr. Bulky coming down the path, he thought quick as lightning, and decided what to do, at once. Stepping out of the door, he slammed it after him, so that it locked itself. (The key was in his pocket.) Then he pretended he was off home, and, putting on his cap, began walking down the path towards Mr. Bulky.

“Evening, sir,” he said as he passed. “Hullo, boy,” said Mr. Bulky. “Why did you come to my house this morning and take away my waste paper? I told you I would not give it to you. You must give me back my sack at once. Do you hear?” He scowled angrily.

“I am sorry, sir,” said Danny. “I am afraid I can’t, this evening. I shall have to get leave from our Cubmaster. I am sure he will say yes, and I will bring it back to you on Monday morning.”
16

“No,” said the man, “you shall give it to me now.”

He walked towards the door and tried to open it. Whilst his back was turned, Danny took the key from his pocket and flung it into a patch of young potato plants.

“Give me the key,” said the man, turning round.

“I haven’t got it on me,” said Danny.

“Little liar,” said the man, and turned out Danny’s pockets. Then he swore hard, and gave Danny’s ear a nasty twist. “I promise to bring you back the sack on Monday,” said Danny. “Very well,” growled Mr. Bulky, and he walked out of the gate. Danny followed him out, and then ran down the road in the opposite direction till he was out of sight round the corner. Then he got through a gap in the hedge and ran back under cover of it. When he had made sure that Mr. Bulky was well on his way home he got back into the garden and found the key. It was after six, and he still had a long job before him, so he went back to tea.
17

. . . . . . . .

It was past seven when Danny once more set to work. Taking up every scrap of paper he examined it carefully. Before long he had found another scrap covered with the same writing. He put it in a box with the first. It was a slow job, but gradually he found more and more pieces. They fitted together like a jig-saw puzzle. Luckily they were only written on one side.

“I know what I’ll do,” said Danny to himself, “I’ll stick them on a sheet of white paper, and then when I have them all it will make a complete letter, and I can take it to Mr. Bates, as evidence against old Bulky.”
18

It was getting dark, so he lit the lamp and drew the curtains across the window. Going into the Sixers’ room he took the paste pot off Mr. Fox’s desk, and also a sheet of foolscap paper. Then, squatting on the ground by the sack of paper, he laid all the precious pieces out, fitting them together. Another half-hour’s search had revealed the rest of the scraps, and with a wriggle of delight Danny added the last piece. It made a long letter—nearly the size of the foolscap sheet. It was dated and signed, and Danny felt sure it was in German. Taking the paste brush, he pasted them all down, making a very neat job of it.

“Now I must clear up,” he said to himself as he knelt up admiring his work. “It must be jolly late.”

“His eyes met a pair of watching eyes fixed on him through the crack of the curtains”
19

He glanced up at the curtained windows to see if any light showed through the cracks, or if it was quite dark, and his heart seemed to stop, and then go on at a furious pace. His eyes had met full a pair of watching eyes fixed on him through the cracks of the curtains. The glimpse he had caught of the eyes and white face filled him with fear—but he was a born Scout, a true wolf of the jungle. He dropped his eyes again immediately to the letter, and pretended he had seen nothing. Not by a tremor did he give away that he knew he was being watched. Taking up the letter he fixed his eyes on it as if he were trying to read it, and while his heart beat like a hammer against his sides he thought quickly what he must do.
20

The man was Mr. Bulky, of course. He had come back to try and break into the hut, and seeing the light had looked through the window. He had watched Danny paste his letter on the paper. He had seen the complete letter. He knew exactly what Danny was up to. Why was he waiting there so quietly? He was waiting for Danny to come out, with the precious letter on him. He would then kidnap him, and take away the letter, and keep him a prisoner, so that he could not give any information to the police. What on earth should he do? The one thing he must be careful about was not to let the man suspect he had seen him. And so, making a very great effort, he managed to compose himself completely, not allowing his hand so much as to tremble, and even managing to raise a cheerful whistle. He folded the letter and put it in the back pocket of his shorts, and then set to work clearing up. This gave him time to think. He shovelled back the paper into the sack. He went into the Sixers’ room and tidied that. He came back and swept the floor. He dared not look at the window, but he felt that the watching eyes were fixed upon him, like those of a tiger crouching in the darkness ready to spring on its prey.

As he worked he thought and thought. The man was guarding the door, and there was no hope of getting out of any of the windows, for he could see them all. In the little inner room there were no windows, it was lighted by a skylight. Of course it would be possible to climb up through this on to the roof, and then drop on to the ground; but the ground was covered with new gravel, and the man would be certain to hear; also there was no way out of the garden except by the gate guarded by Mr. Bulky, for it would be impossible to get over the high fence without making a noise.
21

The tidying up of the room was finished. If he stayed there much longer the man would begin to suspect that he had been seen. Besides it was getting very late.

Suddenly an intense feeling of horror came over Danny. He was like a rat in a trap. The moments were slipping by; those silent eyes were watching; before long something must happen, and he was too far from any house to be heard if he shouted for help. His heart began to sink, and then, suddenly, just as if his Guardian Angel had whispered in his ear, a splendid idea came to him, which quickly unfolded itself into a scheme by which he felt sure he would be able to escape, himself, and take the spy prisoner, as well.
22

But if his plan was to succeed it was most important that he should know if Mr. Bulky was alone, or if he had an accomplice. Also, exactly where he was. Going into the Sixers’ room Danny took his boots off, then climbing on to the top of the bookcase, softly opened the skylight, and drew himself up on to the roof. Creeping along the tiles as silently as a cat, he peered down through the darkness. There, sure enough, stood Mr. Bulky, exactly outside the door of the hut. He was alone.